Free Illegal Possession by Kay Hooper Page B

taunt.
    “D’you want a drink?” she repeated quietly.
    “Whiskey.”
    She fixed the drinks silently, carrying his across to him and then sitting down in one corner of an overstuffed love seat (and why had she chosen that? she wondered) with her own glass of wine. Sipping the cool liquid, she watched him prowl, catlike, around the room.
    While the silence lengthened he gazed at the paintings on the walls, the comfortable overstuffed furniture, the collection of figurines from
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
in a curio cabinet. Almost without thinking, he realized that this was Troy’s room. He didn’t know how he knew.
    Abruptly he said, “It’s amazing how reasonable you become when I get angry.”
    As he turned suddenly to face her Troy found something very interesting to look at in her wineglass. “It isn’t that,” she said almost inaudibly, wondering just what in hell it
was
.
    “Oh, did I touch a nerve with something I said earlier?” he asked sardonically.
    She said nothing.
    Dallas began prowling again, though his eyes rarely left her. “Well, just on the off chance that I
did
touch a nerve, why don’t I enlarge on the theme?”
    Troy opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Because he was entitled to this, too, she realized dimly.
    “We’ll start with your
stated
determination to keep me out of your life,” Dallas began calmly, still pacing the room. “You told me that you didn’t want to get involved with me. But you invited me to your party. Then you told me a second time that you wouldn’t get involved with me. But you agreed to allow me to…get to know you. Knowing—
knowing
—that this spark between us is very nearly too damn hot to handle. Didn’t you?” he pounced suddenly.
    Troy almost jumped. “Yes,” she agreed softly, still gazing fixedly at her glass.
    “Fine.” His voice was hard, controlled. “On to your challenging attitude today. All day long you’ve been daring me to step over that neat little line you’ve drawn between us. You’ve tried your best to provoke
me
into provoking you. Oh, not openly. Just little things—a word here and there, a look. Well, Miss Bennett, did I get any points for being patient? Did I?”
    His second pounce didn’t catch Troy by surprise. She lifted her gaze finally, her eyes unerringly locating him where he stood by the fireplace. She looked at him, still not speaking.
    Dallas laughed shortly. “You’re good with games, lady. And we’ve both learned how to play them, haven’t we? I learned in the boardroom; I don’t know where you learned. All the nice little civilized games meant to avoid honesty at all costs. ‘Don’t be honest,’ it says in the rule book. ‘Don’t let anyone else know what you’re thinking or feeling, or you’ll lose.’ In the boardroom I might lose a lucrative deal; what would you lose, Troy?”
    She wanted to reply,
“Myself.”
but she didn’t know why. She said nothing. Her gaze dropped back to the safety of the wineglass.
    “Cat got your tongue?” he asked with mocking lightness. Then he laughed again before she could respond. “One of your nicknames, isn’t it? But I gather it’s spelled with a
K
. Such a…revealing nickname.”
    Troy knew now why he was sometimes called Genghis Khan. He was a master of verbal fencing. The scary thing was that the man was fighting fair; there was nothing cruel in his words, no strike below the belt. Just brutal honesty.
    Suddenly, violently, Dallas said, “What’s it going to take to convince you that this is not a game to me?”
    She looked up again, and her eyes were wetly shimmering gold. “I knew,” she said simply.
    The violence draining away, Dallas moved slowly toward her, gazing into her fascinating eyes, riveted by something he saw deep within their golden pools.
    “Games.” Troy shook her head in an odd, rueful movement. “Did you ever notice that no one ever really loses in games? You beat me at chess; I beat you at tennis. You own